


Pictures on the Wall

by BookGirlFan



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Family Secrets, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 21:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12197757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookGirlFan/pseuds/BookGirlFan
Summary: "That's my sister. Kotoko." Haruhi' worst imaginings could not have prepared her for this moment. "I never met her. She left the family before I was born. She's dead now."That casual tone, as though the woman in the photo was not the most amazing in the world, as though her death was not a tragedy Haruhi had to live with every day, was what finally pushed her over the edge. "You have to be lying! You have to be! She's not your sister!"





	Pictures on the Wall

Haruhi marched up to Kyoya, nearly shaking with fury. "I know you like manipulating us all, Kyoya-senpai, but this is a new low, even for you!" 

Kyoya adjusted his glasses, hiding his expression. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Haruhi." His cool tone infuriated her still more. How could he dare say that he had no idea, when clearly this had all been part of some plan? 

"The pictures!" She gestured back down the hallway. "Why would you invite me here if not for me to see them?" 

Kyoya's eyebrow arched."I invited you here so I could show you how to look after the budget for the next week, as I will be away. I explained that quite clearly at school this afternoon."

"Then what are these photos doing in the hall?" She gestured back down the hallway again, rage making her movements sharp and pointed. 

Kyoya followed her movement. "Those photos are the same photos that have always hung in that hallway. I assure you, I have not put them up just for your benefit." 

She frowned, momentarily stymied. "That doesn't make sense." 

Kyoya sighed, a refined sound that spoke clearly of his disdain for the situation. "Perhaps if you showed me what photo caused you such distress, I could explain it." 

Despite the apparent kindness of the offer, she was almost tempted to refuse. Long experience had taught her that Kyoya never offered something for nothing. Everything was done for merit. But she really needed to know what that photo was doing there. "Fine. I'll show you." She headed back down the hall, Kyoya following after, and stopped in front of the photo. 

It was obviously professionally done, the subjects all posed with stiff, formal smiles. The tallest two were obviously Kyoya's parents. She'd never met his mother, but his father's businesslike reserve was unmistakeable. Around them were three children, two boys and a girl, with a baby held in the woman's arms. Really, it was exactly what she would expect from a portrait of Kyoya's family, except for one thing: the girl in the photo was not Fuyumi. It was her own mother. 

Kyoya followed her gaze to the photo. "A portrait of my family, before I was born. Fuyumi was only very young then; that's her as the baby." He brushed his finger close, touching but not quite. 

"And what about the girl?" She wanted him to confess. Wanted him to say that he had found the photo somewhere, had edited it in, because that must have been what he had done. She couldn't see why, but Kyoya always had his own reasons. He must have done something. Because the only other explanation was–

"That's my sister. Kotoko." Haruhi' worst imaginings could not have prepared her for this moment. "I never met her. She left the family before I was born. She's dead now." 

That casual tone, as though the woman in the photo was not the most amazing in the world, as though her death was not a tragedy Haruhi had to live with every day, was what finally pushed her over the edge. "You have to be lying! You have to be! She's not your sister!" 

Her outrage was enough to break through even Kyoya's cool facade. "Haruhi, this is ridiculous. Of course she is!"

"She can't be!" Haruhi gestured wildly at the photo, at the girl who would grow into the woman who meant everything to her. "That's my mother!" 

Kyoya didn't say a word. For one fleeting moment, Haruhi wondered if she'd broken him. "My mother cannot be your sister," she asserted firmly. "I'm not – I'm not an Ohtori!" Her voice cracked, shattering any hope she had of winning this argument. Still, she stared at him, eyes still hidden by his glasses, waiting for him to tell her she was wrong. 

Because of this, his next words were a shock. "No," he murmured faintly. "You certainly are not." 

She couldn't tell if he was pleased or displeased by it, but still, relief washed over her. It must have been a mistake, or a joke in terribly poor taste. She ignored the part of her screaming that Kyoya would never go so far over a joke, and let her hope rise, only to be cruelly dashed by his next words. 

"Considering Kotoko was banished from the family when she was only twenty two, and didn't even come back for our mother's funeral, I wouldn't consider her to have any claim to the family name. Therefore, neither do you." 

A scream rose in her throat, trapping her words inside. This couldn't be true. It just couldn't. She stared blankly at the photograph, not really seeing it. If only she hadn't come here today, had said no to Kyoya when he told her that he needed to see her at his house after school. She could have been at home studying, or buying groceries, or anything that meant she didn't have to stand here and see the proof that her mother was not who she thought. But she had said yes, because with Kyoya it was dangerous to do otherwise, and she had come, and seen the photo, and now nothing could ever be the same. 

"I think we should postpone this meeting for another afternoon." Kyoya's voice, calm as ever, came from behind her, but she didn't turn around. She didn't want to see him right now. A gentle hand on her shoulder pushed her back down the hall, towards the front door. It opened in front of her, and she was standing outside the Ohtoris' enormous house (did her mother grow up here-), still shaking with leftover rage and adrenalin, with only a vague understanding of how she got there.

"Goodbye, Haruhi. I'll see you on Monday." She barely registered his words, or the car door that was opened for her; she just got in. Only as she was being driven away did she think of how the hand on her shoulder had shaken, and maybe she wasn't the only one affected by this afternoon's revelation.


End file.
